


the lassie that held the land

by Order_Of_The_Forks



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery
Genre: F/M, I'm so sorry, They never married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 14:17:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15887730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Order_Of_The_Forks/pseuds/Order_Of_The_Forks
Summary: "Now at nights when I go to my bed of slumber,The thoughts of my true love run in my mind;When I turned around to embrace my darling,Instead of gold, sure 'tis brass I find."





	the lassie that held the land

The hard truth was that Gilbert Blythe was broke.

He had just enough money to get by for maybe a year, maximum. And Gilbert wanted nothing more than to marry Anne Shirley; she was his one true love and at one point in time, he believed he would stop only at death to capture her affections. 

But her affections lay elsewhere.

A certain Royal Gardner, in fact. She had met him at college and was instantly infatuated, and the entirety of Redmond blabbered about when his proposal would come. As far as Gilbert was concerned, they were already as good as wed. 

His hat was no longer in the ring.

All his life since that fateful day in school, the day from which Gilbert still had scars on his temples, he had known that she was the woman for him. All his eggs were in one perfect basket.

But Anne had smashed his expectations underfoot as she went and romped with another, and Gilbert was left with a dulled heart and a small pocketful of money.

After his father died, Gilbert was coasting by on borrowed time. His father’s savings only lasted so long, and Gilbert’s refusal to sell anything of his parents’ certainly didn’t bring in money. His medical practice made a small sum, but most mothers knew enough about common country medicine to hold back on doctor’s visits until their child fell gravely ill. 

His only choice, truly, was to marry a wealthy and generous woman with a family willing to help him and his bride get back on his feet. 

But Anne was out of the question.

For so long he had hoped and prayed for Anne. It had been her and only her. But she was living her dream with Roy, a millionaire artist with raven hair and a flair for the dramatic. 

Gilbert had raven hair too, if she was wondering.

Apart from Anne, there were not many eligible women left in Avonlea. Most had been married; if not, they were already affianced or expecting to be. 

Wasn’t it a bit of divine Providence that he should find Josie?

Josie Pye, who had turned away six suitors already and whose parents had just about given up hope. Josie Pye, who had chased after Gilbert for years.

Gilbert gathered a small dowry of his leftover savings and his mother’s old evening dresses and brought them to Josie Pye’s father, who accepted his proposal with delight. 

Josie was thrilled of course, and the wedding was set to be in early May. 

The Pyes sent out invitations for the whole town, and the wedding was arranged to be a grand affair. 

Gilbert received one response: Anne had sent back her invitation with a scrawled message written across the back.

“Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;  
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;  
Thy fate is the common fate of all,  
Into each life some rain must fall.”

Gilbert saved her invitation and carried it in his pocket until May. 

It was really no surprise that Josie hadn’t yet been married; she was overbearing and obnoxious, and she could easily drive someone with any differing beliefs away. But Anne’s rejection had left Gilbert sorry and spineless, so he went along with Josie’s controlling nature with a numb acceptance.

Gilbert had proposed to Anne, once upon a time. Before college. He remembered the words he had said to her; “your friendship can’t satisfy me, Anne.”

Oh, how little he had known.

Her friendship had been the most blessed gift he had ever received. He was a fool to believe her friendship was second-rate to love, when Gilbert knew now he would willingly die to return to their close camaraderie, as opposed to cold disdain. 

As May approached, Josie became rougher and Gilbert became weaker. He came down with typhoid fever in March, and the Pyes were all worried they had bet on the wrong horse. Unfortunately, he recovered in time for the wedding, although he wasn’t quite ready for the gaiety of the evening. 

The wedding went as to be expected, with grand gestures and more frillery than any man could imagine. Josie was so burdened with jewels that it was impossible to tell where the diamonds left off and the woman began. 

It wasn’t until the ballroom reception that Gilbert truly noticed her.

He noticed the hair first. 

The woman in question’s hair had been twisted into a demure knot at the base of her neck. The redness had lost its sheen, and the style held little to be desired. 

She was wearing that beautiful green dress, the one she had worn to the Redmond reception, all sloping waist and a skirt that seemed to dance about her feet when she moved. Gilbert made his way over to her, ready to provide genuine, if bland, small talk. 

But when she turned, his breath caught in his throat.

She looked positively skeletal; her cheekbones had sunk into her face and her eyes that once held a fire were rimmed in purple and red. Her pale skin was waxy and translucent. She looked deathly ill, yet Gilbert found that he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. 

Slowly and unknowingly he found himself drifting towards her, his legs moving of their own accord. 

When she saw him she gasped. “Gil,” she said, ever so softly.

“It’s nice to see you too, Anne.” 

“I doubt it,” Anne argued. It was a comfort to know that she hadn’t changed one bit since their school days. “I look like a horror, I know I do. Everyone says so. Ever since I heard news of the engage…”

She stopped and blushed in embarrassment, and her pale face positively lit up with red.

Gilbert’s lips twitched into a small smile. “I wouldn’t say I’m a picture of shining health either. I’ve only just recovered from a bad bout of illness myself, and I sincerely hope you haven’t experienced the same.”

“Oh, I heard about the typhoid.” Anne nodded knowingly. “And I was beside myself with worry. But don’t fret, my sickly appearance is caused by nothing of the medical sort.”

Gilbert, against his better judgement, reached up and brushed a hand against Anne’s face as if to study it. She recoiled, her skin as pale as a sheet.

Anne blinked. “Let’s sit down,” she suggested. “I’m feeling a little dizzy and if I’m being honest, after six years of wearing corsets, I’ve never gotten used to the things.”

After a year of the Pye women and their posh friends, it was astounding to hear someone talk so flippantly about a lady’s unmentionables. But still, it was a breath of fresh air coming from Anne. She had never shied away from the truth, and he had always respected that about her. 

So Gilbert led her to a small bench off of the main hall, where she sat and fanned herself in a way that could have been attractive but failed to be.

“It’s really nice to see you, Anne.” Gilbert said softly.

“I missed you too.”

“You know, I didn’t think you would be coming. After all, you mailed back the invitation. Why?”

“Why go through the effort of writing a letter when a snubbed wedding invitation is so much more dramatic?” 

Gilbert laughed. “I suppose. What did you mean by that poem on the back?”

“That is for me to know and you to ponder, my dearest Gil.” Anne said slyly. 

“I hardly think that’s fair.”

Anne looked around the hall, at the gallant decorations and gaiety around her, yet her face wore the grimmest expression he had ever seen. “Not much in life is fair, I’ve found.”

“I like to imagine what could have been different,” Gilbert mused, “that day in the orchard.”

A thick silence fell over the pair. 

“I…” Anne turned to look at Gilbert, her eyes raking over his face as if trying to memorize him. “I’ve often imagined the same.”

In a sudden burst of courage, Gilbert cupped Anne’s cheek in his hand, studying her pallid skin, contrasted by burgundy freckles scattered across her nose like stars. “I hope you’re well, Anne. You don’t look it.”

Anne snorted but didn’t pull away from the touch. “Why, Gil, I’m flattered.”

“You know I don’t mean that.”

And by the way her eyes shone, she did know. “I want you to understand that I regret it every day. If I could take it back and marry you now, I would.”

This was all that Gilbert had wanted to hear his whole life, yet somehow, as those words left her mouth, he knew that nothing would ever be the same. Cold distance was somehow better than bitter, foul regret. 

And all at once the world, which was once so alive with color, fell from the glory it once held. The grand ballroom was instantly a sterile desert, the joyous dancers just opposite the wall ghosts of a life once lived. 

“What about Roy?”

Anne laughed, and the melody filled the silence of the room. “He proposed earlier this year. I refused him. I didn’t… I’ve never wanted someone like him, Gil. I’ve only wanted you.”

“Why say this now?” Gilbert asked. “After all this time, why now?”

“Why, I only realized!” Anne argued. “Davy came to me and told me you were sick and I just- oh, it was awful. The only time I knew I truly loved you was when I was afraid I would lose you. And then I heard of the engagement to Josie Pye of all people, and I knew that I already had.”

“I love you.” Gilbert said, barely a whisper. “But it’s too late.”

“It’s not,” Anne persisted. “Please. We were meant for each other.”

Gilbert knew what the his answer was. And wasn’t it right? He didn’t love Josie. And here was Anne, a picture in red and white and green, saying that she loved him. 

She loved him.

This was all he had wanted; she loved him, so how could he say no?

Gilbert shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t.”

When he returned to his wife’s side, she hadn’t even noticed his absence. And for a year they lived in disharmony, clothed in the finest, treated to the best. Josie encouraged him to move away from Avonlea, and they moved to Nova Scotia, to a little town called Bolingbroke, Anne’s town of birth, where Gilbert’s medical practice flourished. 

Almost one year since the wedding Mrs. Rachel Lynde wrote to Gilbert, saying that Anne was gravely ill with consumption and would he come back home and aid her recovery?

Gilbert wrote promptly back with an apology.

It became clear that Josie was having an affair with another man, but Gilbert didn’t care. She deserved someone who loved her back.

He lived in a world apart from everyone else, distant and cold. 

And every night he payed a silent vigil by the gravestones of the Shirleys before her, praying by some miracle that she would come back to him and he would have a different answer for her.

And in that fashion Gilbert Blythe wasted away until the town talked and the minister prayed, wandering the streets at night in hopes that he and his Anne would meet again.

**Author's Note:**

> aaauuuuggghhh i feel like this is really bad and ooc but whatever  
> take it
> 
> i'm sorry if anne seems like a homewrecker or something i know this is shit characterization just please comment i yearn


End file.
